The Way We Live Now Anthony Trollope (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) 📖

be energetic. He was actually eating his breakfast at half-past eleven, and had already contrived in his mind how he would turn the wrong way as soon as he got into the street⁠—towards Marylebone Road, by which route Roger would certainly not come. He left the house at ten minutes before twelve, cunningly turned away, dodging round by the first corner⁠—and just as he had turned it encountered his cousin. Roger, anxious in regard to his errand, with time at his command, had come before the hour appointed and had strolled about, thinking not of Felix but of Felix’s sister. The baronet felt that he had been caught⁠—caught unfairly, but by no means abandoned all hope of escape. “I was going to your mother’s house on purpose to see you,” said Roger.

“Were you indeed? I am so sorry. I have an engagement out here with a fellow which I must keep. I could meet you at any other time, you know.”

“You can come back for ten minutes,” said Roger, taking him by the arm.

“Well;⁠—not conveniently at this moment.”

“You must manage it. I am here at your mother’s request, and can’t afford to remain in town day after day looking for you. I go down to Carbury this afternoon. Your friend can wait. Come along.” His firmness was too much for Felix, who lacked the courage to shake his cousin off violently, and to go his way. But as he returned he fortified himself with the remembrance of all the money in his pocket⁠—for he still had his winnings⁠—remembered too certain sweet words which had passed between him and Marie Melmotte since the ball, and resolved that he would not be “sat upon” by Roger Carbury. The time was coming⁠—he might almost say that the time had come⁠—in which he might defy Roger Carbury. Nevertheless, he dreaded the words which were now to be spoken to him with a craven fear.

“Your mother tells me,” said Roger, “that you still keep hunters.”

“I don’t know what she calls hunters. I have one that I didn’t part with when the others went.”

“You have only one horse?”

“Well;⁠—if you want to be exact, I have a hack as well as the horse I ride.”

“And another up here in town?”

“Who told you that? No; I haven’t. At least there is one staying at some stables which has been sent for me to look at.”

“Who pays for all these horses?”

“At any rate I shall not ask you to pay for them.”

“No;⁠—you would be afraid to do that. But you have no scruple in asking your mother, though you should force her to come to me or to other friends for assistance. You have squandered every shilling of your own, and now you are ruining her.”

“That isn’t true. I have money of my own.”

“Where did you get it?”

“This is all very well, Roger; but I don’t know that you have any right to ask me these questions. I have money. If I buy a horse I can pay for it. If I keep one or two I can pay for them. Of course I owe a lot of money, but other people owe me money too. I’m all right, and you needn’t frighten yourself.”

“Then why do you beg her last shilling from your mother, and when you have money not pay it back to her?”

“She can have the twenty pounds, if you mean that.”

“I mean that, and a good deal more than that. I suppose you have been gambling.”

“I don’t know that I am bound to answer your questions, and I won’t do it. If you have nothing else to say, I’ll go about my own business.”

“I have something else to say, and I mean to say it.” Felix had walked towards the door, but Roger was before him, and now leaned his back against it.

“I am not going to be kept here against my will,” said Felix.

“You have to listen to me, so you may as well sit still. Do you wish to be looked upon as a blackguard by all the world?”

“Oh⁠—go on.”

“That is what it will be. You have spent every shilling of your own⁠—and because your mother is affectionate and weak, you are now spending all that she has, and are bringing her and your sister to beggary.”

“I don’t ask them to pay anything for me.”

“Not when you borrow her money?”

“There is the £20. Take it and give it her,” said Felix, counting the notes out of the pocketbook. “When I asked her for it, I did not think she would make such a row about such a trifle.” Roger took up the notes and thrust them into his pocket. “Now, have you done?” said Felix.

“Not quite. Do you purpose that your mother should keep you and clothe you for the rest of your life?”

“I hope to be able to keep her before long, and to do it much better than it has ever been done before. The truth is, Roger, you know nothing about it. If you’ll leave me to myself, you’ll find that I shall do very well.”

“I don’t know any young man who ever did worse, or one who had less moral conception of what is right and wrong.”

“Very well. That’s your idea. I differ from you. People can’t all think alike, you know. Now, if you please, I’ll go.”

Roger felt that he hadn’t half said what he had to say, but he hardly knew how to get it said. And of what use could it be to talk to a young man who was altogether callous and without feeling? The remedy for the evil ought to be found in the mother’s conduct rather than the son’s. She, were she not foolishly weak, would make up her mind to divide herself utterly from her son, at any rate for a while, and to leave him to suffer utter penury. That would bring him round. And then when the agony of want had tamed him, he would be content to take bread and